


Morally Ambiguous

by tacocudlls



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Awkward Boners, Choking, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Romance, Threats of Violence, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:40:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29437665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tacocudlls/pseuds/tacocudlls
Summary: “How many times had Rey heard someone on the news talking about how they found tens of thousands of dollars in a bag or suitcase and they turned it in to the police? This could change everything.”Ren is hungover when he leaves his bag on the bus. Rey is broke when she finds it stuffed full of money. Ren needs to get the bag back and he’s convinced Rey is the one who stole it. Ren needs what’s inside the bag, not the money, to pay back his debts. He tracks her down, drags her back kicking and screaming, only to be faced with a slew of confusing emotions and feelings towards this small and violent girl. Meanwhile, Rey is just as troubled by the mangled mess of emotions Ren seems to inspire in her.
Relationships: Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 7
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi y’all. I hope this is an enjoyable read. I have multiple chapters written up, so I really want to explore this. I suck at editing, so just ignore any random issues. Kudos+comments=writer’s validation. Thanks a bunch ❤️.

REN:

Ren sits on a bus stop bench in the middle of the city, waiting for someone to show up and give him a new job. It’s been over an hour now and he’s had to wave off three busses already. His head is pounding from overdoing it last night at the bar and these fuckers were late, very late. The old digital watch on his wrist reads half past nine in the morning when he finally hears the screeching brakes of a broke down old beater as it slows to a stop in front of him. A red haired man pokes his head out of the window, wearing a big stupid grin on his pale face.

“Hey, Ren, man,” he says. He’s older than Ren, but not by a lot. He’s got a few years of experience on him but somehow the man is dumber than Ren, and that’s really saying something. He climbs out of the car with a cheap black canvas backpack in hand. “Got held up at another place but I got your stuff.”

“Fuck you, Hux,” Ren growls as he steps forward to snatch the bag from Hux. He opens it and digs around to see if everything is there. “You got the knife?”

“Yeah, I got the stupid fucking knife. It’s at the bottom. Boss says not to mess this up, and if you do, he’ll kill you next.” Hux laughs as he tries to thump Ren on the arm but he dodges the fist easily and shoots Hux a glare. The sickly pale red headed man climbs back inside of the car and his driver takes off, leaving Ren standing there glowering. 

Ren stalks back to the bench and throws the bag on the ground next to him. It’s chilly here even though it’s mid August and it’s supposed to be the hottest time of the year. Or maybe it’s actually hot and he’s just shaking because he’s coming down from whatever he fucking took the night before. Last night had been bad, the kind of night he doesn’t really remember, but he woke up outside in the bushes behind a dive bar missing his shirt, his cash and cards, and his phone.

The bus pulls up and he lurches to his feet, he has a job to do and maybe he can just get a new phone with the money Hux gave him if he finds a store or something. He has to duck when he’s inside the bus, one of the drawbacks of being a tall sasquatch. The driver looks at him expectantly, then taps the sign by the fare box. He’s expecting payment. Ren digs in the bag and finds the smallest bill among the stacks. He pulls out a fifty. The old man just arches a hairy gray eyebrow at him when he shoves the fifty towards him.

“I don’t got change, kid,” the driver grumbles at him but Ren just pushes it into his shirt pocket and tells him to keep the whole fucking thing. He climbs over the turnstile and finds the closest seat available, next to a young woman who gives him a funny look and scoots closer to the old lady on the other side. He’s bigger than her so it’s an awkward fit. His long legs blocking part of the aisle and his balls pinched together. Ren eventually gives up trying to make himself fit in the tiny seat and lets himself take up all the room he needs. She’s smaller, more compact, she doesn’t need the extra room. His jean clad thigh touches the girl’s leg and she scoots away further, scowling up at him as if he has a billion and one diseases.

He’s thinking about finding some tacos when the girl next to him grumbles something and stands up to grab the overhead bar to keep herself from falling. She hissed something about chivalry and assholes but he ignores her, instead readjusting himself so he’s more comfortable in the hard bucket seat, taking up all the room he and his poor balls needed. She’s pretty, he thinks to himself, and is wearing tight cut off shorts that show off thick thighs and slender calves. She probably thinks he’s just some creep on a bus. To be fair, she’s right. And he further proves her point as he leans back and openly appreciates her legs and her gentle curves. And her ass when she turns away from him to give him her back.

He looks away and sees a big box store in the not so far off distance, its big neon sign flashing high in the heavens like a beacon sent from god, promising water and aspirin to alleviate his hangover. He pulls the string and waits for the driver to slow down so he can get off this fucking bus as soon as possible, his only thoughts centered on aspirin and food and water, because holy fuck if he isn’t dying of thirst right now. The bus stops and he immediately gets off, ignoring the bus driver’s attempts to give him back his money and instead making his way down the empty streets of the shit city he had been dumped out on.

REY:

Rey watches while the annoyingly large man stalks off the bus and hopes he trips on his stupidly big feet as he hops down to the curb. She’s disappointed when he doesn’t. The bus lurches forward and Rey braces herself on the bar she’s holding. Her eye catches sight of a black canvas backpack sitting on the floor of the bus and her first reaction is to pull on the cable again to be let off. It’s his, and they haven’t left the stop just yet. The driver sighs in annoyance but he still opens the door to let her out.

She’s less graceful than the black haired and obviously hungover man as she climbs off the bus, his abandoned bag in her arms. Rey looks around to see if she can spot him. He’s tall and strange looking enough that even if the streets weren’t devoid of life, he would stand out. Rey doesn’t see him. She jogs down the street she was pretty sure he went down, and still no sight of his floppy black hair or his wide shoulders. Her phone vibrates in her back pocket. Throwing the bag over her shoulder, she takes it out and answers it.

“You coming in?” Her boss barks over the phone.

“Of course I am. I’m like two streets away.” She rolls her eyes as she talks into the phone, even though no one is around to catch her insubordination.

“Well, hurry the fuck up. We just got a rush and Mabel called in sick.” Earl grunts in his usual rude and callous way.

“She’s probably fucking hungover like always. I’ll be there in ten.”

Rey ends the call and cranes her neck out one more time to check the street for the man but still nothing, so she figures she can drop the bag off at the main bus depot after her shift. It’s a short shift anyways, only four hours long. She takes off running towards the diner, thinking only about how much she can get in tips today.

When Rey slips inside she realizes that Earl was right, the diner is full of people, far more than what is normal for the diner around this time. She throws her stuff into Earl’s office. It’s practically a closet with no door where she and some of the other employees keep there stuff in during their shifts. As she ties her black apron over her clothes, she has an idea. Maybe the guy had left his wallet or something that could give her an address or a phone number inside the bag. She quickly rips the bag open and starts rummaging around. Rey freezes, her blood runs cold when one hand closes around the hilt of very large knife.

It’s giant and in a black leather sheath. If they were out in the country she would understand why someone would have a big ass knife but here, in the city, where there’s no real wildlife except the occasional raccoon or possum? A gun wouldn’t be completely out of the ordinary, they’re in Texas after all, but a fucking nine inch hunting knife isn’t the norm for self defense, even in their fucked up city.

Rey quickly shoves the knife back in only to find herself even more surprised and terrified. She opens the bag wider to look inside and finds it almost stuffed full of rolls of twenties and fifties and hundreds. All crisp and clean and tied up with rubber bands.

“Holy fuck,” she says out loud to absolutely no one. She double checks to make sure Earl is still manning the grill, paying her no mind. Tiff is on the floor with the customers. She feels like her breath has been squeezed from her body. There’s so much money in the bag that she can’t even take a guess as to how much there is.

“Holy shit,” she mutters again. She zips the bag up and slides the straps over her shoulders, with the bag facing her stomach and clutches it harder to her chest.

“I have to get out of here,” she says louder this time.

Earl looks up from the grill, “What’d you say, girl?”

“I said I have to get out of here,” she repeats herself, “I have to leave, I don’t feel good, Earl. I think I got the flu.” She lies.

Earl stops in the middle of cracking an insane amount of eggs on the black stone grill and narrows his eyes at her. “You do look pale as fuck. You take something?”

“What? No! I think it might be the flu or something ‘cause my stomach has been hurting all night and morning. I gotta go, Earl. Tell Tiff I’ll pay her back.” Rey is rambling now, doing too much to cover her tracks. Earl looks at her like she really is on drugs.

If Earl tries to say no, she doesn’t hear him because she’s hurrying off to the small bathroom in the corner of the back room to call a car service. It only adds to her story as she locks the door behind her and she frantically pulls up the app to get a ride. She’s tearing out of the diner within a few minutes, ignoring Earl’s curses and demands that she stay. Her mind is racing as she tries to come up with a plan.

Because how many times had she thought up of elaborate plans if she won the lotto? How many times had Rey heard someone on the news talking about how they found tens of thousands of dollars in a bag or suitcase and they turned it in to the police? When she heard those stories she thought them all idiots because there was so much she could do with that money. Get a fucking house, pay off her student loans, get a new car, run the fuck away from every single problem she had in this stupid fucking city, or maybe even buy herself new shoes. A hundred new pairs of shoes.

This could change everything.

Her mind was whirling as she rode in the back of someone’s little sedan. She had to count the money first, figure out if it was worth keeping, if it would be enough to get her the fuck out of the city. It didn’t look like much but in her experience, a lot of money tended to look like almost no money.

Her apartment wasn’t too far away from the diner, only a fifteen minute drive. It took twice as long to get there on the bus, but she couldn’t afford to get a ride every day. The car pulled up to the curb in front of the small building she lived in, she scrambled out and took the stairs two at a time, which was quite the feat considering her legs were short and stumpy. Her thighs were burning with the effort by the time she reached the fourth floor but the elevator had stopped working a few months back and the landlord didn’t give enough shits to fix it. And even if he did fix it, Rey wasn’t entirely sure if she would trust him to actually pay a reputable and trustworthy company to repair it so she wouldn’t risk it anyways.

Rey’s apartment was ridiculously small, she didn’t even have a fully functioning kitchen, just a sink and a microwave. The stove was broken and the landlord came up with a million and one excuses to avoid replacing it. But at least the place was her own and she didn’t have to share it with anyone. She even had a garden tub that she loved to curl up in at night for a bath or a hot shower. Her bed was the only real piece of furniture she had since she couldn’t fit anything else in there, except her dresser and a TV. Her table was an unofficial desk where she did her homework, or at least used to, for her community college classes. She couldn’t afford to not work so she had taken some time off. Rey wasn’t the type of person who could juggle full time work and full time school. Maybe this money could change that for her.

She closed the door behind her and locked it with every bolt she had, including the chain, then emptied the contents of the bag on her bed. The rolls of money tumbled onto her pink and white comforter set. She quickly unrolled them and started to organize the bills. Placing all the twenties together, the fifties, and the hundreds. She counted and recounted, losing track in her desperation and getting all tied up with the sheer amount of cash. But in the end she got the same number and she shuddered out a long sigh.

“Thirty thousand dollars,” she whispered to herself. “There’s thirty thousand fucking dollars.”

Rey pinched herself, hard, on her thigh and yelped. She was awake, it wasn’t a dream, it wasn’t fake. She checked the bills at random with a counterfeit pen she used daily at work. The money was real. Very real. She really and truly had thirty thousand dollars spread out on her bed.

Rey screamed in delight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a plantser. I have a rough outline of where this is going. But the characters and I do w/e tf we want. So, I’m a recovering alcoholic and I’ve been sober for 50 days now. Ren is going to have to be my way of dealing with my sobriety. Sorry, Ren. Also, he’s having a lot of suicidal ideation and probably will have a lot more. He’s inherited a few of my traits. 
> 
> Other than that, I hope y’all enjoy this little bit. Next chapter will be from Rey’s POV. ❤️ Kudos would be greatly appreciated, as I need validation. Please forgive any mistakes you might find ❤️

REN:

He lost the bag. He fucking lost the bag with his money and his knife and the fucking file on the guy he was supposed to take out. And there was no one else to blame except for himself, and maybe the fucking girl he was convinced took it from the bus after he got off.

But mainly it was definitely his fucking fault. Ren was having a mental breakdown in the parking lot of the small Walmart he’d found without the use of his phone. He was pacing back and forth, wondering if he should just go fucking jump into traffic and end his miserably stupid life once and for all, because anyways Sheev was going to kill him and he was betting that it would be far more painful by his hand. Or god forbid he sent Hux to do it. Ren couldn’t give that red headed fuck the satisfaction of taking him out.

Ren didn’t even give a shit about the money. He didn’t really need the money. What he needed was the name of the guy he was supposed to take out, and he couldn’t just go up to Hux and ask for a copy of the file. That wasn’t how it worked. Ren couldn’t just admit that he had fucked up his only chance at repaying his debts.

“Fuck,” he yelled. A few people stopped to stare as he kept pacing. He let out a scream of frustration and ran his fist into the jagged rocky surface of the wall. Ren regretted it instantly. Now he was angry, hungover, hungry, and bleeding.

“Ren?” A man called out from a few feet away. Ren turned to look and found Poe Dameron, of all people, jogging towards him. Because of course he would find Poe fucking Dameron while he was having a meltdown in the middle of a Walmart parking lot.

“I would recognize your angry screams anywhere, man.” Poe said with a big grin plastered on his good looking face. The corners of his mouth faltered as he drew closer and took in Ren’s appearance. “Wow, you look like shit.”

“Thanks,” Ren grunted as he shook the pain out of his hand and wiped the blood on his jeans.

“No, really, you look terrible. What the fuck, man? Are you ok?”

Ren closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to calm himself down. “No, I’m not ok, Poe.” He admitted. Poe crossed his arms over his chest and nodded.

“I got you, man. What’s up?”

Ren looked at the other man and considered how much he could get away with. He knew Poe from way back when and had rescued him from a few tough spots before so he definitely owed Ren a few favors.

“A lot. Food, clothes, a phone. Maybe something to kill myself with,” Ren groaned. Poe raised an eyebrow as the list got longer then just nodded, seemingly willing to help Ren out of his shit situation.

“Come on man,” he said simply and Ren followed him inside the store, still shaking the dull pain from his hand.

—

They left the store an hour later with Ren in new clothes that weren’t absolutely filthy and with a new bag that was almost identical to the one he lost, specifically to avoid questions if Hux or his little goons found him on the streets. He’d also acquired a new knife, though it wasn’t nearly as nice as the one Hux had given him. But it would do for now. This time, Ren kept it tucked into the waistband of his jeans, just in case he was dumb enough to lose all his belongings again. Poe had also picked him up a new cell phone, just something basic and prepaid to help him get around town.

“Walmart should have showers,” Ren complained as they walked towards Poe’s truck. “The amount of times I’ve had to change in a Walmart bathroom is fucking alarming.”

“Walmart can’t fix all of our problems,” Poe said with a chuckle. “Like finding your mystery girl and your bag.”

Ren grunted and got in the truck, still full of overwhelming anxiety as he thought about his gigantic fuck up. His plan was still fuck all. He couldn’t think past the throbbing ache in his skull even though he’d chugged an almost lethal amount of over the counter pain pills. Maybe tacos would help the planning process. He told Poe to take them to the nearest half decent taco place.

“It’s not a Mexican place but I know this diner in town. It’s got some good fucking hangover food, I’ll tell you what.”

—

The diner Poe took Ren was small and full of old men eating hotcakes and grits while drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. The smell of greasy food mixed with cigarette smoke was almost comforting to Ren. It reminded him a little of breakfast back home when he was a boy. He half expected his mom to pop out and whack him on the head for putting his elbows on the sticky Formica table top. Not that he gave much of a shit now about table manners anymore. Since Ren was a large man who constantly looked on the verge of assault or murder, he was left alone to his heathen ways.

They waited in silence for the waitress to come up to them, a lean woman in her forties with big blonde hair and heavily outlined eyes. She slapped some napkins on the table and slid two mugs in front of them. In her other hand she held a pot of coffee and she wordlessly offered it to them. Both men nodded and she poured the divine liquid into their cups. This was the type of interaction Ren lusted after. Quick to the point, bordering on rude, yet superbly efficient.

“Y’all want to order or do you need a minute?” She asked with a brisk tone.

“Bacon, eggs over easy, hash browns. Extra bacon.” Ren ordered. The woman simply nodded before looking over to Poe who just ordered the same. The woman promptly left the table without saying anything else.

“So how do you know this girl took the bag, anyways?” Poe asked Ren as they drank their coffees. Ren shrugged.

“I just know.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, Ren,”

“My gut tells me she took it.”

“Your gut?” Poe looked dumbfounded, jaw slack as he stared at the man in front of him in surprise. “No offense, man, but that is the dumbest shit I’ve heard you say, and you say some very dumb shit.”

“Go fuck yourself. I know what I’m talking about.” Ren downs the hot coffee as quickly as possible. He hissed as the coffee scolds the roof of his mouth but he smacks his lips and keeps drinking, eager to chase the ache in his head away with caffeine. The morning after a binge is always the worst and morning after a week long binge is absolutely grotesque. Ren’s watch tells him it’s nearly noon, making it ten hours since his last drink. He’ll be in for quite the ride pretty soon. Ren’s never been more than 14 hours sober without suffering some physical symptom of withdrawal.

“You got a smoke?” Ren asks. The other man shakes his head and Ren feels a twitch of irritation.

Ren exhales loudly in relief when their waitress comes back with more coffee and a tray full of food. She drops plate after plate piled high with greasy food in front of them and Ren’s stomach growls at the sight.

“Any chance you got a cigarette, ma’am?” Ren asks her, desperate to have something to take his mind off the headache pounding away beneath his skull. She takes one out of her apron pocket and hands it to Ren. It’s a menthol Virginia Slim but he’s desperate enough to not care in the slightest. The waitress helps him light it when she notices he can’t. Ren’s hands shake too much for the flame to stay lit. Poe raises a dark eyebrow at him when the waitress leaves, his dark brown eyes unwavering as they watched Ren inhale and exhale the cigarette in record speed.

“I thought you stopped working for Sheev,” Poe said in between bites of toast dipped in the runny yolk. Ren grunts in response, too busy trying to simultaneously smoke and shove food into his mouth while trying to maintain his civility. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. The painful empty feeling in his stomach hinted that it had been a while.

“You know there’s no stopping. Not when it comes to Sheev.”

Poe fixes him with a meaningful gaze, his warm brown eyes almost pitying. “I got out, man. It’s not impossible.”

Ren laughs bitterly and drops the butt in a cheap plastic ashtray. He’d smoked it down to the filter. “There’s no getting out when you’re useful. You weren’t useful, Poe.”

“Your ma wouldn’t want you to be doing Sheev’s bidding, Ren.”

“Shut your mouth,” Ren snarled at Poe, his voice loud enough to make a few of the patrons turn their heads towards them. Poe raised his hands in surrender, signaling that he would drop the subject before Ren tore him to pieces. He knew the subject of Ren’s dead mother was hands off.

They carried on eating, conversation dropped to avoid violence on Ren’s part. The food was helping his head, the ache starting to dull as his jaw worked to chew the bacon and grits. Belly full now, his nausea started to alleviate but he knew it wouldn’t be for long. Once the check came, Ren pushed the bill towards Poe who didn’t seem perturbed at footing this as well. Maybe Ren’s Ma really was working behind the scenes, pulling strings for him even from the pits of hell. She’d probably sent him Poe to be his savior. Now if only she could get him a place to shower.

“You ready to go?” Poe asked, tucking his billfold back in his pant’s pocket. Ren nodded. They waved at the waitress who was leaning against the counter talking to an older black man with close cropped gray hair.

As they left, Ren’s eye caught something by the entrance. Hanging on the wall next to the door was a large framed picture. It was the diner during Christmas. A little tree adorned the counter with the staff gathered around it. One figure was glaringly familiar to Ren. A pretty young woman with long dark hair, shorter than everyone around her, bent forward so her hands were on thick bare thighs. She’s smiling in the picture instead of scowling but it’s definitely her, the girl from the bus. The one who took his bag.

He looks around until he finds a bus boy cleaning up a nearby table. Ren stalks up to him and with one large hand he grabs the bus boy by the collar. The kid cries out and tries to push him off but Ren is stronger and he’s deadly focused on only one thing. Ren hauls him across to where the picture hangs by the entrance of the diner. A few people have stopped eating their meals entirely and they gasp and stare in horror as the scene unfolds. He shoves the kid’s face into the picture and points at the girl in the picture.

“What’s her fucking name?” He growls in the kid’s face. Poe is yelling at him in the background as people start to clear out. The waitress from earlier, bless her, is screaming for someone to call the police.

The kid is stumbling around his words, “What the fuck, man?” He cries at Ren.

Ren pulls the kid back and slams his face against the wall again. “Who the fuck is she?” Ren yells.

The kid yelps and whimpers, “Rey. Her name’s Rey.”

“Ok, now where does she fucking live?”

“Westfield Heights. Downtown. I don’t know her apartment number but it’s on the fourth floor.”

“Thank you,” he hisses into the kid’s face and releases him. The bus boy slides down the wall and falls to his knees, a shuddering mess. Red had gone overboard. He realized it as he looked down at the kid, who seemed barely out of his teens, slumped down in a heap by Ren’s feet, trembling and eyes filled with tears. He turns to find Poe frantically reaching for him, snatching at his arm to pull him out of the door. Ren let’s the smaller man drag him outside and to the truck.

“What the fuck was all that about, man?” Poe yells once they’re inside of the truck. He peels out of the parking lot, almost side swiping a car and over correcting. Ren groans as he’s thrown against the door, his head cracking against the passenger window.

“The girl,” he says, rubbing at his temple. He decides to put on his seatbelt to avoid a concussion. “The girl works there or worked there. Go downtown. The kid said she lives at the Westfield Heights apartments.”

Poe swears and makes a turn headed west towards the small cluster of large and ugly buildings that make up downtown. He’s muttering in Spanish under his breath, words too jumbled and fast for Ren to try to decipher what he’s saying. But he still catches Poe calling him a ‘pinche idiota’. They pull up in front of an old and almost crumbling red brick building. Looking up at the ugly and almost dilapidated complex, Ren understands why the girl would take the money and run. He would too if he lived in a shit hole like this. Ren climbs out of Poe’s truck and slams the door behind him, looking briefly over his shoulder when he doesn’t hear Poe’s door slam as well. The man is still sitting inside the truck, gripping the steering wheel tightly and glaring at him through the window. He shakes his head at Ren.

“I’m gonna just go, Ren. You always lead me on some bullshit and I don’t want my wife to leave me.” Poe says.

Ren is disappointed in the man but he still nods and gives Poe a mock salute. “I get it, you helped me plenty. I’ll pay you back.”

“I still owe you,” Poe says with another head shake. It’s true. Not much could repay a life debt. Ren has made quite the sacrifice so Poe could get out from under Sheev Palpatine’s thumb.

“I’ll see you later,” Ren says and catches the door as an old lady exits the building. He hears Poe’s truck pull away and goes inside the building, grimacing at the sight of the buildings dirty and sad interior.


End file.
